This building was somewhat larger than its neighbors. Apart from its size, however, its only distinguishing feature was the plain, brown-and-russet pennon that fluttered from a pole jutting out of its thatch. Geraden tossed his reins over the porch rail, then turned to offer Terisa a lift down, muttering, “This is it.”
There was a woman on the porch. A line of rope ran from one end of the porch to the other, and over it hung a large rug, rag-woven from scraps of wool. The woman held a short flail in one hand, and the air around her was dim with dust: apparently, she had been beating the rug. Terisa was immediately struck by her corn silk hair and sky blue eyes, by the flush of exertion on her cheeks and the strength in her hands. She had the bosom of an Earth Mother and the shoulders of a stonemason, and she propped her fists on her hips to greet Geraden as if she weren’t entirely ready to let him enter her house.
A child only a little bigger than a toddler peered from behind her skirts, then ducked into hiding.
“You took long enough,” she said in a voice that directly contradicted the severity of her manner. “Da’s been fretting.”
“Quiss,” he replied like a man who had forgotten how to laugh and didn’t want to get angry, “this is Terisa. The lady Terisa of Morgan. She’s an arch-Imager.” He seemed to fear that Quiss wouldn’t take his companion seriously enough. “After Vagel, she’s the most powerful Imager in the country.”
Quiss raised her blue eyes to Terisa’s face. She didn’t smile, but her gaze felt as friendly as sunshine. All at once, Terisa forgot to be self-conscious.
“She’s also cold and tired, and probably hungry,” Quiss pronounced, “and she isn’t used to horses. What are you waiting for? Bring her in.”
Terisa smiled helplessly.
Geraden reached up for her hand. His eyes gave away nothing: he was too iron to be dented by Quiss’ manner. Terisa included him with her smile, then lost it because she suddenly began to ache for the Geraden who would have chuckled happily at Tholden’s wife. When he didn’t respond, either to her smile or to her sadness, she took a deep breath for courage and let him help her off the bay.
Her legs began to shake as soon as her feet hit the ground – a consequence of her unfamiliarity with horseback riding – but after she took a step or two the trembling eased. Geraden might have wanted to withdraw his hand, but she didn’t give him the chance; she clung to him as she went up the steps onto the porch.
Still without smiling, Quiss unexpectedly took hold of Terisa’s shoulders and gave her a quick hug, a kiss on the cheek. “Welcome, Terisa of Morgan,” she said. “I don’t know anything about Imagery – but I know Geraden. You are very welcome here.”
Terisa had no reply. An awkward moment passed while she groped for a way to explain how glad she was to be here. Then the child hiding behind Quiss’ skirts broke the silence.
“Ma, the lady don’t smell good.”
Quiss started to turn. “ ‘Doesn’t,’ Ruesha. Not ‘don’t.’ And that’s no way to talk to a lady.”
Geraden was faster, however. “Imp!” he barked. “Come here. I’m going to paddle your behind until you can’t walk for a week.”
Squealing with an obvious lack of fright, the child sprinted into the house. Geraden followed, thundering his boots on the floorboards as he pretended to run.
This time, Quiss did smile, half in apology, half in pleasure. “Ruesha says what she thinks,” she said, “like too many of her uncles.” Then she wrinkled her nose humorously. “But it’s true, you know. You don’t smell good. They must have treated you pretty badly after Geraden got away.”
Terisa was smiling herself; a small trill of music ran around her heart. There was hope for Geraden yet. Perhaps just for a second, he had been surprised out of his defeat. She sounded incongruously happy as she replied, “They put me in the dungeon.”
Quiss’ eyes resumed their sky blue sobriety. “A dungeon they haven’t cleaned for decades, apparently.” The bare idea affronted her. “Come. I’ll introduce you to the Domne. Then we can go get you a bath. And some clean clothes. That will give his father a chance to try to make sense out of Geraden.”
With one strong arm wrapped companionably around Terisa’s shoulders, Quiss steered her into the house.
The room they entered was so dark that she could hardly see. The only light came from the coals in the hearth, the barely translucent window covers, and the reflection of daylight through the doorway. As her eyes adjusted, however, shapes began to emerge from the dimness: a bulky cast-iron stove beside the fireplace, several doors into other rooms, a rectangular wooden table long enough to seat ten or twelve people.
At the head of the table sat a man with one leg propped on a stool.
“Did you see Geraden, Da?” Quiss asked.
“He went through here,” a warm voice rumbled. “He was too busy trying to beat the spit out of your youngest to talk to his mere father. But he’s back in one piece – and he’s got a woman with him. I gather something good has happened.”
“I think so,” said Quiss briskly. “Da, this is Terisa – the lady Terisa of Morgan. As soon as you tell her how welcome she is, I’m going to take her and get her a bath and clothes and food. In the meantime—” She paused significantly before saying, “Now that she’s here, maybe he’ll unbend enough to tell you what’s going on.
“My lady Terisa of Morgan, this is the Domne.”
Through the gloom, Terisa saw that the Domne was a tall man, as lean and curved as an axe handle. He had Geraden’s face, and Artagel’s, and Nyle’s, but more so in some way, as if they were attractive yet inaccurate copies of him. The hair on his head was thick, but he had no beard. The silver streaks at his temples were the only obvious signs of his age. Perhaps because the light was weak, he didn’t appear to be more than half as old as King Joyse.
The leg propped on the stool was plump with bandages. He had a pair of canes nearby, but he made no attempt to rise when Quiss introduced him. Instead, he said, “My lady,” in a voice as warm as a hug, “you’re welcome in Houseldon – and in my house. If we could do it, we would put on a feast for you, a celebration. But I’m afraid we’re a little too busy. Geraden seems to think we might be attacked. That doesn’t happen every day, and we have to brace ourselves.
“But don’t worry about that right now. I’ve wanted him to bring a woman home with him for a long time. That’s the benefit of sons. When they marry – or only fall in love – or merely feel like flirting a bit – they bring their women home with them. Quiss is a good example. If she were my daughter, and Tholden was someone else’s son, she would have left to go with him, and we would have been lost without her.”
At that, Quiss snorted affectionately. “Sons, is it? Is that why you treat Ruesha like she’s worth the weight of her three brothers in fine brandy?”
The Domne didn’t deign to acknowledge this jibe. Noticing the direction of Terisa’s gaze, he explained, “A hunting accident. I’m afraid I finally have to admit that I’m not a young man. Occasionally, packs of wild pigs wander into Domne from the Care of Termigan. I’d be willing to let them wander, but unfortunately they can trample an entire cornfield overnight, so we’re forced to hunt them. This time, one of my sons had the bad sense to suggest that I was getting too old to hunt wild pig. The truth must be told, Quiss, it was Tholden. Naturally, I insisted on leading the hunt myself.
“When the boar charged, my thrice-cursed horse panicked and threw me. Then at last I had to admit that indeed I have put on a few years since my youth. I simply wasn’t spry enough to prevent the pig from sticking his tusk in my leg.